Chapter 9
Jane
The court was as bustling as I remembered, its blue corridors alive with people weaving through one another. My attention dipped to my neat boots against the tiled floor, unmarked by the forest this time. Once, I’d crossed these halls bewildered, with mud caked to my soles.
This time felt different. The building was unchanged, the ordinary quality of the folk going about their business entirely the same.
But I felt changed.
Unlike before, I wasn’t bracing for what might happen so much as preparing for it. My brown plaid skirt and white blouse were part of the emissary outfits I had, and the burgundy cloak was meant to let me blend in among them.
I glanced over my shoulder at Joy. Her neck was stiff as she tracked the constant motion around us, a posture I recognised too well. She didn’t notice my stare, but Finn did. His gaze flicked between us before settling on me, and he winked, offering that easy, reassuring grin.
Good. I needed the reassurance.
Reagan’s hand found the small of my back, guiding me as a cluster of robed scribes emerged from a nearby door and crossed directly into our path.
Their eyes fixed on him, and they stepped aside, giving him a wide berth.
I narrowed my eyes at the gesture, resenting the fear in it, how easily a person could be reduced to a single moment and never allowed to outgrow it.
The corridor opened into a vast chamber lined with desks, scribes lifting their heads in quiet sequence as we passed. Malory’s owl waited on its stone perch, feathers as still as the granite beneath.
“Name,” it demanded, swivelling its stone head without a single crack.
“Caedmon Reagan, with staff members and family,” he replied.
Joy made a small, dismissive sound at that, though her body told a different story. She wasn’t happy to be here, but this was the best option available to us, even if she begrudged the necessity of it.
We had given her a charcoal cloak meant to help her blend in, though she’d kept her yellow sweater and denim beneath it. Her strawberry-blonde hair was braided neatly down her back, all sunlit gold like our father’s, just as her eyes were his warm brown.
She was more him, whilst I…
I’d been told I was like my mother, from the copper of my hair to the straight line of my nose. I’d been told many things about her, none of which answered the questions we had now.
“The judge will call you when she wishes to,” the owl said, its voice cutting cleanly through my thoughts.
Reagan guided us toward the wall near a cluster of chairs, though none of us sat.
We had gone over this, each of us knowing what to say, when to speak. Still, a restless flutter stirred inside me, a need to ensure we had covered all our bases.
I leaned closer to him. “Will this work? The proof. Do you think it’s enough?”
Reagan bent until his mouth hovered near my ear. “Having jitters?” he murmured, teasing. “Yes, it’ll work. You both belong to Mountheim, and you’ll stay with me. You can relax.”
His power brushed along my back in a slow caress, subtle enough that no one watching would have guessed the Mage Lord was touching me, especially with his hands tucked into his pockets. It was easy to accept reassurance that was so effective at soothing my nerves.
My leg ceased its bouncing.
“What do you think?” I asked Joy.
Her honey-flecked eyes were still on the owl. “This doesn’t make sense,” she murmured.
Over her head, I caught the pinch of Finn’s mouth, though his attention never left the room.
“It takes a bit of getting used to,” I said. “The first time I was here, I was trying not to faint.”
Though it was bland and closed-lipped, I managed a smile, aware of the rhythmic tap of her finger against her leg.
“You looked like it.” Reagan’s voice rolled over me with quiet amusement.
“And you still threatened me.”
He glanced at me sidelong. “You were giving me orders.”
Finn chimed in, “He was just annoyed because you gave him more work.”
Reagan tsked. Joy, predictably, remained unmoved.
“You actually improved his mood,” Finn went on. “Gave him something to complain about for days.”
I hummed. “Interesting, since he ruined mine while I was doing my best to be civil.”
Reagan met my eyes, expression deliberately bored. “That was your best? You were absurdly demanding. Still are, despite the risk in front of you.” His lips twitched with something like amusement.
I lifted a brow, but his gaze was unyielding, as if he were prepared to defend that opinion in detail.
My pulse answered the challenge, speeding mildly. I inched closer, into the pulsing hum of power that radiated from him, the same current that made the rest of the room subtly wary.
It wasn’t that I ignored danger, but I could sense when it was real. And deep down, perhaps I had never felt truly threatened by him.
Somewhere behind me, Finn murmured to Joy, “And this is where we wait while they circle each other.”
But it didn’t feel like circling. It felt like the quiet pause before a dance, when both of us already knew the steps.
“The judge calls the Mage Lord and his companions to her chambers,” the owl called out.
Any eagerness drained from me the moment we crossed the threshold into Malory’s office, and I offered a silent prayer that this meeting would not leave us worse off than before.
We stood before her long mahogany desk while she studied a stack of papers unhurriedly. Beyond the tall window, a grey sky pressed low against the canopy of trees, heavy with the promise of rain.
It occurred to me, as Malory kept us waiting, that I had no clear sense of where this court sat within Mountheim.
I knew the names of towns, the distances between them in theory, but not how they fitted together.
I had never stood still long enough in front of a map. I made a quiet note to correct that.
“I do not recall requesting the presence of all of you for the investigation into Mountheim’s curse,” Malory said at last, lifting her gaze from the papers.
“You can never have too much help,” Reagan replied. “And we have some other interesting matters for you today.”
“Yes,” she said evenly, sliding a folded newspaper aside. “I imagine you have all sorts of interesting topics.” She regarded him. “Most recently, you left me wondering how you became so forgiving over the years, especially after I saw a certain article in the paper.”
My gaze landed on the article with Varian’s name etched into the fine print.
“Not that forgiving,” Reagan said lightly.
Malory didn’t answer. Her attention shifted instead to me, then to Joy, her appraisal slow and searching.
My instinct urged me forward. “This is my sister, Joy Darling.”
Malory’s eyes moved to Reagan. “Another trespass? So you do have a problem at your border?”
“No,” he replied. “She is my guest. As is their father, who was unable to come since he’s in a ward in Mountheim Hall. Their presence here is one of the matters we want to address.”
A quiet breath left Malory’s nose. “Very well. Since you saw fit to expand today’s agenda without my consent, let us begin.” Her pointed gaze returned to me. “You may present your findings.”
Straightening, I steeled myself to remember that day. She had been at the cabin, had seen Varian and the others, but not everything.
“After I had time to think,” I said, “I remembered there was more I hadn’t shared.
There was another man in the cabin that night.
He arrived briefly and left early. I didn’t hear his name, but he knew Varian.
They were working together. He helped Varian remove a protection that Reagan had placed on me, so I could be used as leverage.
And before he left, he said something about…
working the threads. Do you know if Varian mentioned this person? ”
Malory lifted a pale brow. “Varian Ilya agreed to cooperate and confessed to glamouring as the Mage Lord. I’m not privy to his full confession so I’m not aware of anyone else involved besides the three Scions.
But apparently, he said that glamouring was the only way to enter Mountheim after being denied access.
And that you were aware of his identity and pursued him with the intent of physical intimacy. ”
I stifled a curse. “I did not pursue him.” Not in that sense. Yet I had followed him. “I’d thought he was Reagan.”
A ghostly brush traced my spine as I exhaled, soothing yet charged too.
“The Hall’s staff reported seeing you with the Mage Lord that evening.” Her tone was resigned. “Ashenagth accepted Varian’s confession. You are, of course, entitled to dispute it.”
“And what are the chances they will hear her?” Reagan asked, his voice a shade harder.
Malory met his gaze. Something unspoken passed between them.
“That is another issue,” Reagan continued, a thread of gravel in his tone. “He was judged there, but Mountheim received barely any justice so far. Instead, Varian received leniency over an entire estate and the Scions are still missing. We must demand more than that. Respectfully.”
Malory could be reasoned with. Despite the apathy in her expression, there was a kernel of understanding in the way she paused to think.
“What proof do you have that warrants a more fitting punishment? Or do you imagine your words are enough?” she asked.
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but Reagan tipped his chin toward Finn.
“We have theories about what they did that night,” Finn said solemnly.
“Based on what Jane heard about the use of threads, we looked into spell work. Threads are often mentioned in the context of time weaving. If any of them, including this stranger, possesses the abilities of a time weaver, they could have delayed the end of the curse. Though we don’t know how that would have led Reagan to shapeshift.
” He paused, allowing the theory to settle.
“There’s also the possibility they used a glamour relic that created the illusion the Mage Lord had turned.
It might explain why they wanted him unconscious. ”